Midnight Moon
by Opium
Summary: I tried to create something different from the main current. You guys get to decide, the new and improved Chapter I is up. Go check it out. More to come anytime soon. R&R.


**MIDNIGHT MOON**

_Note_: The following text contains foul language and scenes of violence. (It really isn't that bad what it sounds.) If you are a minor or cannot stand this, you must _leave now._ If you are offended by the few racist comments that are included in the text, I am sorry. The text is designed _only_ to typify the characters, and do not represent my personal thoughts of anyone or any human group. (Jeez!) 

_Disclaimer_: All characters from this text are product of Namco Ltd, and some original characters belong to me. All rights reserved.

_Miho's parental guide_**:** Okay people, my first fanfic. Sit back, enjoy and send me opinions! I need to know, what you people think about this. PS: I took the liberty of using my imagination, therefore all the incidents don't exactly outline the story, and there may be some new pairings as well. Just be open-minded. Yes, the first part is mushy and the plot develops quite slowly, but the next ones… well, you'll just have to see it for yourself.

   And yes, there is some Japanese included in the text. I just wanted to show off since I'm goddamn proud of knowing at least a tiny winy bit of it. Here you go:

- bakayarou - asshole

- haha-san – mother

- ie - no

- katana - the most famous samurai sword ever

- tek ken – iron fist (who DIDN'T know that?!)

- sensei – a karate/ judo/ aikido/ iaido/ taido/ etc. instructor

_Contact: mihokirosana@hotmail.com_

Book one

Chapter I: Hostility

The evening began to turn darker. A distant thunder shook the window glasses in an empty and silent alleyway. Xiaoyu walked faster; she knew there could be somebody or something hiding in the shadows. Gods, she had been panicking her ass off since she had found out the truth about that arrogant and calculating Japanese snob, Jin Kazama.

   How the hell had Jin managed to fly through a window, fall thirteen metres down to concrete and walk away like nothing happened? Xiaoyu shivered just thinking about it. Nobody from the Mishima-Kazama- family had seen her walking in the shadows past the M.F.E HQ building, when she was returning to her small flat. The flat was actually in the same building, but only far away from the main entrance. Mr. Mishima-sama (that was how Xiaoyu was supposed to address Heihachi Mishima) did make sure that Xiaoyu would be as far away from his eyesight as possible. He didn't like to see her around too much, and it seemed he didn't want to admit that she _was_ his niece.

   Only three more blocks... She reminded herself. The thunder was now much closer than minutes before. A cat jumped meowing down from a trashcan, startling the girl.

   "Jesus!" She put her palm to her chest, as if having a heart attack. The surrounding streetlights buzzed electrically before the light went down. The alleyway was now pitch-dark, apart from the dim moonlight. A cold wind found its way through Xiaoyu's clothing, and shivering, she continued walking. Suddenly, she stopped.

   Footsteps. Silence, and then three more footsteps. Silence again. In the moonlight, Xiaoyu could hardly see a man's figure standing ten feet away from her, staring at her. He took his hands out of his jean pockets and dug something out from the breast pocket of his dark denim jacket. An unexpected flash told that he was holding a nice, sharp switchblade. The man stood out of the shadow, to the moonlight that caressed the curves of his face and made the fiery hair look psychedelic. He crossed his arms, holding the switchblade.

   Xiaoyu tried to stay calm. She wasn't much of a fighter, never mind how hard she had trained Hakke Sho Hika Ken, and if these fighters around the world were even half as good as they were told to be, she wouldn't stand a chance. This man had to be the selfish and hot-tempered Korean boy whom Jin was talking bitterly about few days ago. She couldn't remember his name well, but he sure looked like a merciless street thug, trained to kill. If she would say something wrong, then it would be bye bye, Xiaoyu. 

   "The hell are you lookin' at?" The man asked in Korean street slang. "Move out, bitch, and I won't smash your pretty little face in." He played a while with the switchblade, dancing it between his fingers, before slipping it back to his pocket.

   Xiaoyu could feel her cheeks turning red for the sudden irritation bubbling inside her. A Korean rat! But of course this man, now identified as Hwoarang, thought she blushed for inexperience with a man like him. Ye Gods, talking about egotism! 

   "What's the matter? Never seen a man before?" He sneered and began to approach her.

   The only thing Xiaoyu remembered clearly from her childhood was that she had always been the person who got into trouble because of her short temper and sometimes... rough language. She had never been such miss Ray of Light, if someone acted cheeky on her. And this man, never mind how nicely trained he was, was no exception. Hwoarang's every step made her even more aggressive. She swallowed heavily and tried to get past him, nice and easy.

   "Hey! Whe're do you think you're goin'?" Hwoarang grabbed her arm. "You leave when I tell you to."

   "Back off, you dog!" Xiaoyu spat the words in Chinese, stunning him with her angry outburst. Remembering all the movies she had seen with situations like this, she traditionally kicked him in the groin, pushed him to a nearby garbage container and ran all the way to her flat.

   Later, when she was opening her window for some air before hitting the hay, Xiaoyu could see Hwoarang walking down the street under her, cleaning his denim jacket and apparently swearing in Korean. She closed the window before she burst into laughter.

Hwoarang looked up to a window in the building number 27. He heard a woman laughing loudly, and somehow he could tell, why she was laughing.

   "Just you wait, bitch, just you wait..." he muttered before he gave his best smile to a couple of women who walked the other side of the street. They talked in Japanese, and were apparently heading to a party of some sort, judging by their make-up and outfit. First he thought he could join them, but the experience with that tiny Chihuahua was too much for one night. The women giggled nervously as he blinked his eye to them. 

   In the need of a fight, Hwoarang continued walking to the rooms for the fighters, and just when he had closed the door behind him, the sky was torn in two, and the massive clouds rain down their water.

   Hwoarang closed the door of his room, kicked his boots off and slumped to the bed to lie on his back. He lit a cigarette, put his free arm to his forehead and calculated the stains on the roof.

*******

   "Concentrate!" Heihachi bellowed. He rubbed his temples and tried to force the migraine away.

   Jin was sweating, and his muscles were aching for the four-hour intensive training. The three-month period of non-stop training were starting to take over the younger man. Not to mention their last Friday's practicing in Heihachi's private dojo: Heihachi had kicked Jin deliberately through the window to test, if there was some cursed blood in his grandson's veins. 

   There was.

   Now, for the pain and exhaustion, Jin used only a half of his skills and stamina, hoping his grandfather would let him go easier.

   "_Iie._ Stop."

   Jin stopped his kick in mid air, before he collapsed on the tatami. Despite his high-level strength and constitution, this continuing torturing by his grandfather was too much. He didn't understand, why he had to train so hard, if Heihachi wouldn't even let him to take part in the tournament. Jin quickly rose to the basic stand.

   Heihachi was silent. Jin breather heavily, and even though his eyes were firmly fixed in front of him, he knew his grandfather was disappointed. Greatly disappointed. 

   It wasn't the cold words or the stone hard punches that were the worst thing Heihachi was capable of; no, it was the silence. It was the silence that screamed. Jin felt his Grandfather's eyes looking at him, calculating, making judgements.

   The silence was worse than anything.

   "I don't understand", the old man's low voice made Jin get goose bumps. "What is it that is so difficult for you to understand?" Heihachi sighed. "You continue this later afternoon." 

   Jin bowed. "Yes, Grandfather."

   Heihachi turned and walked out from the dojo. His footsteps echoed in the room that had shiny parquet floor and walls covered with the most beautiful and detailed Japanese _shintô_-art. It had been built on a small hill; five kilometres to west from the M.F.E. HQs. Jin could hear the voice of a limousine door slamming and tires squeaking. The following silence surrounded him like a curtain, as he sat down in the lotus position and closed his eyes. This time the silence was warm, embracing, maybe awaiting.

   Jin sighed. It had been five years since his mother's death, and still, the memories were sometimes too painful for him to handle. After Jun's death, Heihachi had finished Jin's training, and taught him to be the inheritor of the M.F.E. His teachings had already taken the best of Jin; the continuous brainwashing about being merciless and calculating had built a cold, solid wall around him. In these days, people rumoured that Jin was becoming even more like Kazuya Mishima than Kazuya himself ever was. And on time, Jin began to adapt this role, designed for him. Like father, like son.

   Jin bit his teeth together. A warm tear made its way through his eyelashes, continuing down his cheek, to the under of his chin. A few minutes later, its companion followed.

   Jin knew, that his mother wouldn't believe her eyes if she would meet him these days. Jin wasn't the same sickening polite mama's boy he used to be, or as Jun would've put it, 'decent and well-brought-up son'. Everybody knew, that Jun had had the talent to see a good side in everybody and everything, and she made people around her feel welcome in the way they were. Sardonically, it was said that no other couple could complement each other than Jun and Kazuya did. Like yin and yang.

   _"Run, Jin, RUN!" A ball of fire hit the young boy in the chest, making him fly against a tree. The boy cried and tried desperately to breathe. "Hah-ha... haha-san..!" Tears blurred his eyesight; terrible smell of smoke and blood tickled violently his nostrils, telling his mind that she wasn't going to survive._

   The firing house collapsed. A huge, winged figure stood up from the middle of it, leaning back and screaming from the top of its lungs. Jin was afraid, he was terribly afraid. Where was mother?

   Suddenly, a branch from the tree behind him cracked and hit him hard on the head. Last thing Jin remembered was something white and silky between the beast's legs. It was almost like it was...

   "Yaeah!" Jin's heart hit faster than ever before when training.

   With weak legs, Jin stood up, went to the shower and returned to the M.F.E. After that morning, he didn't smile for a month.

*******

Xiaoyu patted her notebook with her pencil. She glanced at the clock for the what? Twentieth? Thirtieth time? Mr. Yamagashi's history lesson at 2.45 pm felt like eternity, and after every minute her anxiety grew bigger. She cursed the day when her mother decided to send her to the Mishima Industrial High School. _It will be good for your future, Ling. And don't make a big deal about this. Your Father's heart is weakening._ Those were the only words what her mother, Ling Shisei, formerly Mishima Shisei, had said to her daughter about this, a week before her airplane left. Xiaoyu was now sixteen, but she turned seventeen next week, and hoped, just hoped that her parents would come to visit her. She missed China, missed everything in there: the nature, people who talked the same language as her, all her friends (especially Kiao; they always got into trouble together.) A warm smile crept on Xiaoyu's face when she thought back her life in China, all the friends, the days... and of course, Shang.

   Xiaoyu frowned and pushed the memories from her mind. 

   This was the day when all the rest of the twenty fighters around the world would arrive to Japan. Not that Xiaoyu would be actually _happy_ to meet them, but it was thrilling to sit quietly in a corner of the fighting circle and watch how the entering contestants controlled their bodies, when they gave a sample of their skills. The rumour had it that an assassin had managed her way to the... Tek Ken, was it? _Fist of Iron... Interesting,_ Xiaoyu mused. Nobody could exactly tell what the assassin's motives were, but nevertheless this was a welcome variation in Xiaoyu's dull everyday life. Or that was what she thought.

   "... But what we know for sure is that the Dynasties remained almost the same throughout hundreds of years." Mr Yamagashi noticed one of his students watching absent-mindedly out of the class window and sighing. – Uh, miss Ling.

   Xiaoyu didn't even observe that the teacher's babbling had stopped.

   "Miss Ling!"

   "Huh?" Xiaoyu turned her head and immediately knew that the teacher expected her to say something. "Yes, Mr Yamagashi-san?"

   "Who was the last emperor of China?" Mr Yamagashi's eyes narrowed. Some of the students, whom Xiaoyu disliked, covered their mouths, giggled and whispered things like: _"Chicken's memory." "What can you expect from a Chinese girl?" "Look how her eyes widen. Look!"_

   Xiaoyu pierced the dominant bitch, Ayako Chesterfield, with her stare, and formed the words with her lips:

   "_Bakayarou"_, she hissed.

   Ayako frowned, with Xiaoyu continuing her staring.

   "Is there something that you'd like to share with us, miss Ling?" Mr Yamagashi's voice was tight for anger.

   "No, sir, there is not." Xiaoyu faced the older man and prayed that he would let her go easily. She couldn't take any more of Heihachi's... uh sorry, I mean Mr Mishima-sama's punishments.

   The bell rang.

   "Class dismissed! You stay here." The teacher stared at Xiaoyu. The girl sighed heavily and slumped back in her seat.

_Oh fuck it. Fuck fuck FUCK!_ Xiaoyu walked down the giant stairs in front of the entrance of the school. Mr Yamagashi had really given her a piece of his mind, and spent an hour and a half talking loads of shit about her grades, her behaving and so on. The worst part, however, was when Mr Yamagashi had started his speech about the good Mishima name, and how Xiaoyu brought shame on her family. She had closed her eyes and slowly counted to ten, and had finally managed to mumble an apology between her teeth.

   One of the oldest students ran into her shoulder, and all her books scattered on the floor tile.

   "Watch it, you..!" She was about to say something... shameful, when she noticed who the jerk was.

   A pair of coffee-coloured eyes stared firmly at Xiaoyu, who quickly began to collect her books.

   "What are you doing here... Kazama-sama?" She picked up her last book and bowed. Jin replied the gesture, his face stern. _God, he's been like a bear shot in the ass for weeks._ Xiaoyu didn't quite know what to expect.

   "I was looking for you", Jin answered and grabbed her arm gently but strongly. "Grandfather wants to see you. Says that is urgent." His face remained stable, but his voice trembled with the word 'urgent'.

  Xiaoyu opened her mouth to disagree, but then followed Jin with no struggle. He let go of her at the huge school courtyard, and she realized that there was a limousine in front of the school gates, waiting for them.

   Inside the vehicle, Xiaoyu hoped that Jin would have done this with a lower profile. She knew that tomorrow the Chesterfield bitch would tell some sick rumours about Xiaoyu and Jin, she thought when she looked from the darkened window and saw Ayako talking something with her two most trusty companions. They were giggling and pointing at the limo.

   She quickly glanced at Jin from the corner of her eye, and saw him resting his other cheek to his palm and watching out of the window. She had to say something; the awkwardness was thick enough to be cut with a _katana._

   "So..." Xiaoyu started and frightened mentally when Jin abruptly turned his head. "How come the old man sent you to get me instead of some of his minions?"

   Jin raised his other eyebrow, and oh yes, there was a hint of a SMILE on his face. Xiaoyu reddened.

   "Uhh..." I mean, she began and coughed for the shame. "I mean how come Hei... uh, _Mr Mishima-sama_, sent you, Kazama-sama, here..?"

   "That's all right", he interrupted. "I'm not exactly a fan of him either."

   Xiaoyu looked sheepishly at Jin under her eyebrows. "I'm sorry..."

   "Don't be! It's always refreshing to hear some honest opinions, too." Jin's budding smile curved a little more. "I'm fed up with ass-kissers. Anyway, he continued, with her relaxing a bit, "I cannot be sure what he is after right now." He paused, and Xiaoyu thought he stopped there. "He usually doesn't tell me anything. He just... gives orders."

   The young man sighed and continued his staring out of the window.

   _Oh dear God, am I in a crazy family or what?_ Xiaoyu mused and wasn't surprised, when lighting flashed through the sky, and when tiny drops slowly began to tap the car window.

   The clock was nearly ten past five; all the fighters had already arrived.

*******

_Perfect. Just perfect._ A beautiful woman stood in front of her bed, in the guest room that had been shown to her twenty minutes after her arriving. Her features were a bit like cat's: sharp, but absolutely beautiful nose, round eyes, silky blonde hair and nicely manicured nails. Not to mention her sculptured body and self-satisfied behaving.

   Nina Williams eyed her series of weapons, which she had polished and settled into straight lines on the bed. There was a Desert Eagle .50 with a silencer, a pair of Uzis (_for the dirty job_, Nina thought and smiled), and her favourite: a steely butterfly knife with golden ornaments and wavy blade that had uniquely sharpened diagonal edges. That was the knife she would hide in her suit in the fight against Jin Kazama.

   Nina bit her teeth together for just thinking of him. His father, that cursed Kazuya Mishima, had ordered the murder of Nina's father. And her sister, whom Nina had hated ever since she found out about Anna's working as Kazuya's bodyguard (_and a whore, I bet_, Nina thought bitterly), hadn't done a thing because she was too goddamn weak! Anna had always the weaker of the Williams sisters, and her weakness had cost the life of the one person Nina had ever loved.

   _Easy, lady_, Nina said to herself and looked to the mirror on the door-side wall. Her usually pale cheeks burned red for the sudden anger firing inside her, but she soon calmed down and took the butterfly knife from the bed.

   The shining blade always gave her the thrills, when she twisted the handle and the blade popped out from the middle of it. When the blade was out, the ornaments formed a dragon on the handle, and it shined elegantly when light hit it.

   Nina pulled a hair from her head and smiled when the blade neatly cut it in two. She ran her slender fingers on the blade and looked back on all those times it had became useful: on that time when she had accidentally killed the school head master who wanted to give Nina 'personal education, since the poor girl has difficulties in understanding mathematics', when she had slit Anna's cat's throat and laughed, and when she had caressed her wrists for ten times or so, and thought what it would be like to watch life cascading out of her. All these feelings were nothing but fragile memories, due to her cryogenic researches, but also the most important memories to her.

   It had been ridiculously easy to manage all the weapons here; it seemed that the M.F.E. maximum security guards took the orders from money, not from grandpa Heihachi. Nina had only needed two hundred dollars and a sweaty night in a nearby hotel, and the young fool who claimed himself a soldier had nearly carried the weapon bag inside in his teeth. The guard didn't realize that he had to die as well. But not yet, he could still be useful. Goddamn it, these foreign jerks were almost too easy to play with! 

   Nina startled when there was a loud knocking on the door.

   "Yes?"

   "The dinner has been served, miss!"

   "Okay, thanks for mentioning!" Nina knew it would sound rude to the Japanese servant, but at the moment she wasn't concerned about the protocol.

   Nina clicked the knife close and held it against her chest. 

   _Soon._

*******

   "What is it?" Heihachi asked from the speakerphone.

   "Miss Ling is here to see you", the young Korean secretary said.

   "Send her in." Heihachi straightened himself in his leather chair and crossed his arms to rest on his lap. He breathed slowly and watched as the young and beautiful Chinese girl entered the door, walking towards him.

   Xiaoyu's head was stubbornly up, and she squeezed her hands in fists and held her lips tightly together; there was no way she was going to kiss her uncle's ass. Heihachi read all these marks from his sister's daughter and smiled internally. The girl had the temper of a fighter.

   She stopped in front of Heihachi's massive teakwood desk and didn't obviously know what to do; nevertheless she didn't let it show. She stood there quietly for good ten minutes, and waited.

   The clock ticked. Xiaoyu waited. Heihachi fixed his position once and never removed his gaze from Xiaoyu's eyes. Neither of them wanted to lower their eyes first. The clock ticked. Xiaoyu waited. Finally, Heihachi spoke, sternly, coldly.

   "I understood that there was an incident at your school, Heihachi started. Xiaoyu's face looked surprised for the quarter of a second, before it changed back. "An incident, which you caused." Heihachi marked the word 'you'.

   "I..." Xiaoyu started angrily, but coughed and corrected her tone when Heihachi's left eyebrow rose a half of a centimetre. "I... didn't do that on purpose. I have already apologized Mr. Yamagashi."

   Heihachi never removed his gaze from the young girl's eyes.

   "These are dangerous times, Ling. You know it." Heihachi looked briefly out of the window and returned to stare at Xiaoyu. He rose and walked pass his desk, and stopped right next to her, his face on the direction to which her back was. She began to felt strange nervousness in her lower stomach. "I advice you not to draw too much attention to you."

   Xiaoyu bit her bottom lip and held her breath when Heihachi stepped right behind her. She could smell the cigarettes he smoked, and the expensive French cologne he wore. She looked helplessly out of the window and desperately hoped that she could have been one of the gardeners working on the yard. She quietly let out a suppressed sigh.

   "Ling, Ling..." Heihachi murmured and placed his hands to rest on her shoulders. Xiaoyu swore that if his hands would move even a millimetre, she'd kick his balls in. "I can see you are frustrated and bored." He paused for a moment, leaving her in an unbalanced state. "That's why I will send you in", he continued and quickly took his hands off her shoulders and returned to his seat.

  It took fifteen seconds from Xiaoyu to recover from the shock. "Uh, where are you going to send me... Mr Mishima-sama?"

   Heihachi fixed some papers on his desk, took a security key card from one of his drawers and threw it to the table.

   "To the third Tekken Tournament", he said.

  Xiaoyu blinked. "What?!" She forgot her position in his eyes.

   Heihachi was silent and stared in her eyes, forcing her to lower her gaze. "This is a perfect opportunity to test your and my lousy grandson's style, skills and technique." He paused for a moment. "To see if you two have learned anything. Just think it as a way to improve yourself."

   "But I'll never survive a single match... I don't have the discipline... I, I..." Xiaoyu spread her arms in desperation.

   "You may go." The old man leaned back in his seat and lit a cigarette. Xiaoyu opened and closed her mouth like a fish, furiously searching for a reply.

   "And just out of curiosity", she said sarcastically, "What are you going to tell to the press? ... Mr Mishima-sama?" Heihachi's eyes were stern and icy.

   "None of your concern. Kawaguchi-san!", Heihachi talked to the speakerphone, pressing a button down. 

   "Mr Mishima-sama?" A guard answered immediately.

   "Miss Ling needs to be escorted out." The old man removed his forefinger from the button and puffed his cigarette.

   Xiaoyu stormed out from the room, pass the surprised guard, deliberately leaving the key card behind. Yes, this was a perfect plan to lure the Devil out from Jin's blood and get rid of Xiaoyu. He would put an end to this sick prophecy. The history was dangerously repeating itself, and he could sense the evil side in Jin, despite that the boy was quite insecure and too polite, never mind how intensely Heihachi had trained him, both mentally and physically.

   And Ling? Well, she was nothing but a disgrace. He was sure Shisei wouldn't miss her that much, I mean, a girl as a first born for Heaven's sake! And if somehow she would manage her way through the tournament, he would kill her with his own hands. There was nothing standing in his way.

   _Nothing too much, nothing too little._ Heihachi crossed his hands to rest against the back of his head and look out of the window, from where he could see Xiaoyu running through the emerald-green grass on the yard.

*******

Three days after the arrival of the very last contestants, the fighting rings opened for the press and for the audience. Every fight took place in huge _dojo_-rooms, where there were around five hundred seats in every one of them plus the seats for special guests. Not everyone was allowed to come and see the fights; the more the Tournament went on, the harder it was to get tickets there. Usually the average Japanese came to the very first fights, and as the Tournament continued, the audience changed from normal people to people with power, such as politicians, Zaibatsu owners, ministers, remarkable _sensei_ and the like.

   Xiaoyu was on her way to check out the fighting areas. It was a psychological thing: she couldn't give her best as a fighter if she wasn't balanced with the surroundings. The people or the flashlights didn't bother her; it was just that she had to have at least a tiny hint of what the tatami felt like, what kind was the smell there, how dim the lighting was and so on.

   She walked around the fighting square minding her own business, as she suddenly realized a dark figure bumping into her. This time she wasn't on a bad mood, but it soon changed as she recognized the figure.

   "Do you mind keeping your eyes open?" Hwoarang spoke China a little hesitantly, wiping the fore of his denim jacket; the soda he had bought had popped out from the can. Xiaoyu looked him in the eyes and instantly remembered the meeting in the alleyway. And was also instantly very annoyed, yet she was also quite tired.

   "Who are you to tell me to watch it, carrot head?"

   This time he _was_ impressed. Usually almost any girl he knew would be ashamed as hell if he'd be as rude to her as he was to this China chick. And of course, psychologically the very first reaction was not let the enemy see the slight shock. But before Hwoarang had the chance to say something, Xiaoyu had already turned 180 degrees and left him.

   The rat had got her on a bad mood again. Xiaoyu smirked for the nickname she had given to the red head, 'rat' sounded quite nice, but the smile soon died as she took a small brochure from a table near the entrance, turning it in her hands. The brochure was about the Tekken Tournament, and it had every contestant carefully characterized on it, written by the old fart H. Mishmash himself. Xiaoyu was curious, although she didn't admit it to herself; she browsed it through until she found "Dawn Jade" written in Western text. She couldn't help thinking that how much did Heihachi have to control himself not to have her name translated as "Bamboo Rain", or worse, "Small Fish".

   Ignoring this, Xiaoyu read, and hated herself when discovering that her heart was beating a little faster than normal.

   _"... Miss Ling studies at the Mishima Industrial High School economy and sociology as her main subjects, and she has taken a huge liking in certain amusement activities."_

   _OK, now it starts to get interesting_, she thought, biting her tongue. _"With a plan of a perfect amusement park on her heart, miss Ling has decided to take part in this Tournament, where fists and will truly have to be made out of iron. We all hope she could make it to the finals. Miss Ling has honourably announced, that all the orphan and less fortunate children could then come to her perfect wonderland, the Xiaoyu-land."_

   Xiaoyu removed her gaze from the text. She was furious. On that exact second, a clear decision was made: She WOULD make it to the finals. To the very last and bitter _grande finale_.

   The girl left, clutching her fists together.

*******

   "Fight number three, Hwoarang versus... Forrest Law!"

   It was the third match on the first day of the tournament. Every contestant had been seen in various training sets all around the Mishima HQs, but Hwoarang hadn't paid much of attention of preparing himself. He had a hangover and his other fighting glove was missing. Not to mention that his sweatband had somehow managed its way to his boxers.

   "Could the contestants please take their places!" The speaker shivered for the narrator's metallic voice.

   "Yeah yeah", Hwoarang muttered, while he was wrapping his now found fighting glove and shook his other leg to get the sweatband out. He placed it on his head and stepped on the tatami.

   Forrest Law mentally wrinkled his nose in disgust when he first saw his challenger. Was this some kind of a joke, did he really have to fight this punk with ridiculous hair and messy _gi_? If so, he almost screamed for his easy victory.

   Hwoarang jumped up and down few times, before he took his left stance.

   "Round one. FIGHT!"

   Both men began to approach each other and threw few punches and kicks here and there to learn to read their rival's strategy. Forrest Law began with a series of fast punches, and Hwoarang answered with his lightest combo.

   _Clever. _Law hoodwinked Hwoarang with two would-be punches, before he quickly changed his position and kicked his opponent once, twice, thrice. Hwoarang blocked easily the first two turning kicks, but the third somersault really surprised him, hitting the exact point of where Law had directed it: Hwoarang's jaw.

   Hwoarang fell to the ground on his back and blinked, then rolled to left and stood up in a matter of seconds, avoiding Law's heel aimed to his solar plexus. He had troubles in breathing, his body protested all this for its hangover condition, and he could feel the coppery taste in his mouth. He forced himself to recover from it and returned to the death dancing. He tried the hunting hawk, fixed his position and started with a series of his most lethal kicks. Law avoided and blocked almost every one of them, despite of three kicks breaking his defence a little. 

   Sweat began to form on Hwoarang's forehead, when he became aware of his opponent's better shape. A headache almost blinded him, he saw different colours and he felt that the lights burned his retinas. His legs didn't want to collaborate, and he felt that his left fighting shoe began to loose. Nevertheless he tried, and attacked Law aggressively. 

   _All too easy_, Law thought and saw a clear spot in Hwoarang's defence, greeted him with junkyard kick and ended the short and sorry fight with dragon's tail.

   "KO! Round two cancelled in five seconds, four, three, two... one! Forrest Law wins!"

   Hwoarang lay on the tatami for a minute or so, disappointed and unpleasantly surprised. _What the hell just happened?_ He questioned himself. _I just lost the shortest match of my life?_ All this was too much for his pride, and he quickly left the fighting areas, and headed to his room.

Nina Williams was on her way to her very first match, when she saw a young man, around twenties, walking pass her on the other side of the street. His red hair fell loosely on both sides of his still sweaty face, his eyes were fixed on the concrete under him, and he visibly bit his teeth together for... anger? Hate? Frustration?

   Nina watched arrogantly him walking, and noticed his ragged, punk-like clothing and thought that just what the hell a sorry thug did in this kind of a competition? This was real fighting, damn it!

   She entered the locker room, dressed, fastened her hair to a neat ponytail and entered the fighting room. The lighting was as bright as in a surgery room, and she had troubles with her left shoe.

   "Fight number four, Paul Phoenix versus... Nina Williams!"

   She walked around and stretched her arms. She wasn't nervous, she didn't even recognize the word, but the feelings she had were more like curious. She hadn't spoken too much to anyone around here, but this was a pleasant way to get to know someone.

   "Could the contestants please take their places!"

   Nina faced the tall and muscular man with sleeveless red _gi_ and almost burst into laughter when she noticed his hairdo. _If this Phoenix's skills aren't advanced enough, he can always to laugh me to death_.

   "Round one. FIGHT!"

  Paul Phoenix tapped his fists together a few times, before he took his stance. He wasn't amazed by Nina's incredible speed or precise punches, since her attacks didn't affect on him that much. He started with thunderfist, continued with two lethal uppercuts and finally swept her legs from under her, and almost yawned for boredom.

   Nina thudded badly on the floor and lift herself up by pressing her palms against the tatami. She coughed once and was surprised big time, when she tasted the ruby liquid in her mouth.

   _It can't be..._ She licked her lips once and frowned as she returned to her stance.

   Paul Phoenix turned quickly around, for he was already about to leave, thinking that this whole tournament would be a piece of cake. He slightly avoided Nina's heel to his other cheek, and took a panther claw to his face.

   He blinked and answered with jumping kicks, both easily avoided by Nina, who now stood behind him, and as he turned, she kicked him with bad habit.

   Paul's eyes widened for the pain shooting through him from his balls. Billions electric shocks of pain blinded him for a lethal second, he couldn't do anything else than cough, and this Nina took her advantage of and threw him on the floor, digging her other heel to his face. She then backed off a little, breathing heavily.

   Paul didn't stand up.

   "KO! Nina Williams wins!" The announcer was silent for a moment. "Round two. FIGHT!"

   Paul bit his teeth together, and pushed himself up. His anger prevented him from thinking clearly, and so he made all the classical mistakes. Nina remained calm, ignoring the growing pain in her left side of her ribcage, and dancing along on her high heels. Paul attacked with his elbows, which Nina dazedly took on her jaw, but before he could even smile, she attacked with the Geyser cannon combo.

   The match ended.

  "KO! Nina Williams wins!"

   When Paul raised his head with pain, he saw the woman disappearing in the doorway, the lights behind her making her look like an angel. He heard her laughing.

   _Soon,_ Nina thought and went to the shower.

Be gentle. This IS the very first piece of fan fiction I've ever written, and even though I'll probably some day hate myself for publishing this, I did it anyway, just to unleash the little masochist in me. Every kind of feedback that's given in a _reconstructive_ way is always welcomed. More of this is yet to come; you just hold your horses. ^_^ © Miho 2003 


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